


as it was in the beginning before we were born

by tigriswolf



Series: Alternate Universe [306]
Category: Charmed (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Flashbacks, M/M, Time Travel, Unchanged Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: Chris is fourteen years old when he tells someone, “I can’t kill my brother.”





	as it was in the beginning before we were born

**Author's Note:**

> Title: as it was in the beginning before we were born  
> Fandom: Charmed  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Donald Platt   
> Warnings: AU, references to violence/death  
> Pairings: Bianca/Chris, Wyatt/Chris, canon Halliwell pairings  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 2235  
> Point of view: third  
> Note: this did not go where I thought it would

“You’re the brother,” the demon says, already ducking as Chris throws energy. He also dodges, reaching out to grab her but his telekinesis has never been as strong as W—

“I don’t want to fight!” she shouts. “I’m here for help!”

“Help?” he shouts back. 

“Yes.” He watches as she steps from behind the boxes; he’s found an old shop to bed down in for the night, and she must’ve been following him because he’d just begun preparing his protection ward.

“You’re the brother,” she repeats, hands spread at her sides. She doesn’t say the name; he hasn’t either, in months. 

“How’d you find me?” Chris keeps his hands ready—he’s never been all that good with telekinesis, but he can definitely blow things up.

“I know the feel of his magic,” the demon says, almost bitterly. “Finding you wasn’t that difficult.”

That’s horrifying to think. Has he been wide open since—

“It’s what my kind do,” she rushes to say. “Not everyone can.”

He blinks at her. “Did you just try to _comfort_ me?” He rises from his crouch and lets his hands drop. 

“Well.” She shrugs. “You’re—younger than I thought.”

He scowls. She smiles slightly. “Can we sit and talk? I brought food.” She hesitates. “Can I summon it?” 

Chris stares at her, trying to read her. Me—no, don’t think about her. “Fine,” he finally says. “What’d you bring?”

.

She’s not actually a demon, and name is Bianca, and she’s the last Phoenix of her coven. She’s brought sandwiches, the best thing he’s had since that night. She has a plan to destroy Wyatt. 

The ham sandwich turns to ash in his mouth.

.

Seven months ago, Chris had an entire family. Then, in one horrible night, only two of them were left: Chris and Wyatt. Sometimes, Chris doesn’t think of Wyatt as his brother—sometimes, he wants to call for him and do whatever it takes to let his big brother fix things. 

Except, his big brother is the one who broke the world.

.

Bianca has a plan. It involves going back in time to kill Wyatt before he decides to unleash evil, before he’s too powerful to stop. She speaks earnestly, fervently. 

By the end, when they’re watching each other in the light Chris conjured, Bianca asks, “Will you help? You’re the only one who can.” 

.

Chris is fourteen years old when he tells someone, “I can’t kill my brother.” 

She draws back, face hardening. 

“But,” Chris says, “I can save him.”

She settles down, gaze assessing. “That might be even harder,” she muses. 

“I know,” Chris whispers.

.

It takes six years before Chris is ready, emotionally and magically, to even try. He and Bianca have a refugee camp for mortals, witches, and even demons. None of them know who Chris was, before Wyatt took over. None of them know Chris is the only one who has even a chance of succeeding. 

“Chris,” Bianca says, twisting the ring on her finger. “If you have to—”

“I will,” he promises, leaning down to kiss her.

Hand in hand, they join the crowd entering the Halliwell Museum. 

.

Once, Chris had an entire family: grandfather, parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins. He never thought he was anywhere close to powerful, not compared to any of them.

But he survived. Wyatt planned for everyone to die—that Chris was his younger brother couldn’t have been enough to spare him, since Melinda died with their cousins, Chris helplessly crying over Mom’s corpse when the demons struck.

Everyone died. Except Chris. He fled the manor with Mom’s blood on his hands, unable to orb. He sought for Mel, for the aunts, for Henry and the girls. No one answered. 

He collapsed when he felt them die one by one and then all of them—he screamed, his magic billowing out in an explosion he had no hope of controlling. 

Once he’d caught his breath, he gapped in horror at the crater where a neighborhood used to be, and then he orbed in a panic. 

He started running and he didn’t stop.

.

At no point during the planning did Chris expect his parents or aunts to recognize him, but it still hurts that they don’t. He can barely stand to talk about his father, finds it difficult to meet his mother’s eyes, and can’t believe these whining, irresponsible women are his amazing aunts. 

But he takes a deep breath, glances quickly at the baby that isn’t yet his brother, and begins the long journey to saving the world.

.

Chris will never be sure when Wyatt realizes he survived the purge, but he knows the exact instant he realized Wyatt was responsible. He’d hidden, put up the strongest ward he knew, and thought through the grief, determined to figure out what had happened.

He very nearly called Wyatt, that first night. He would have, except that he believed Wyatt must have died, because he disappeared when Mel did. But then Wyatt flared up, bright and loud, and Chris nearly shouted for him—

But. Huddled in the dark, alone, horrified and grieving, Chris wondered, _Did Wyatt?_ He couldn’t even complete the thought.

It was the only explanation. If Wyatt was _alive_ —

He curled into himself, locking everything in, doing everything he knew to erase any hint of his magic or his spirit. He fell asleep that night, body aching from wracking sobs, tears still on his face.

Three days later, demons captured him and brought him to Wyatt. 

.

The baby doesn’t trust him. Neither do his aunts or his parents.

He doesn’t blame them because he understands: nearly everything he says is a lie. He’s always been a better liar than anyone else in the family.

Their distrust makes things difficult, though. Well, more difficult. He’s already mostly convinced this entire gamble is a fool’s errand. But he’s determined to try, even if it kills him. (He’s also mostly sure it will.)

He watches the baby sleep sometimes, from his room at P3. Astral projection while conscious was the one thing (beyond lying) that he did better than his siblings or cousins. They have no protections against it because they don’t think they need to. He can’t touch anything, anyway. He just watches the baby or wanders through the house he barely recognizes. It hasn’t been his home in a long time.

.

The demons brought him to Wyatt, who pulled him close and said, “It’s so good to see you.” 

Chris swallowed heavily, slowly bringing his arms up to hug his brother. “Wyatt,” he whispered, voice shaking, “what happened?”

Wyatt sighed.

Chris closed his eyes because he’d been telling himself he couldn’t be right about his brother, even as he hid and never once called for Wyatt.

He gripped Wyatt’s shirt tightly, holding in a sob. Two weeks ago, everyone except them died, and he knew that Wyatt was the reason.

“Listen to me, Chris,” Wyatt said, beginning to pull back.

Chris exhaled, opened his eyes, and orbed.

Wyatt let him go.

.

He remembers that moment, still feeling Bianca’s blood on his hands. Still hearing her gasp. Still feeling the burn in his lungs, Wyatt’s grip on his throat.

He remembers that Wyatt let him go as he watches the baby. 

“If I can’t save you,” he vows, “then I’ll stop you.”

Even as he says the words, he knows they’re a lie. He told Bianca, the first time they met _I can’t kill my brother._ Wyatt killed everyone Chris ever loved, but even if he had the power, Chris knows he couldn’t kill his brother.

Wyatt let him go. Even when Chris and Bianca began rescuing people and picking off Wyatt’s demons, Wyatt never came after them. He let them build a safe place.

Chris watches the baby, Bianca’s dying gasps echoing in the air. 

“How’d we get here?” he asks. 

The baby doesn’t answer.

.

Once or twice, or half a dozen times, he nearly gives up. Nearly orbs away to lose himself somewhere. 

But Mel. Mom. The brother he once had. The girls and Henry, his aunts.

Something had to have turned him. Something went wrong. And his true brother is still in there because Wyatt didn’t kill him. Why not? He wrestles with it, his mind constantly going back to it. Wyatt arranged for everyone to die—so why didn’t Chris die?

Why didn’t Wyatt kill him? Mel had been the darling of the family. Wyatt doted on all the girls, while Chris kept to himself. But Wyatt had been an amazing big brother. Chris isn’t sure if his memories have been idealized. His childhood—how much of what he remembers is accurate? How much of it is wishing and dreaming and hoping?

“Why am I alive?” he asks the baby.

The baby doesn’t answer.

.

Chris lies. Always has, so well even the empaths were fooled. So well he fools himself.

He dreams of his brother. “You lived, little brother,” Wyatt murmurs, holding out a hand, “because I knew. I always knew.”

 _Knew what?_ Chris wonders, waking to stare at the wall. What did his brother know?

The first thing Bianca ever said to him: _You’re the brother_. The only survivor. The last Halliwell in the world—because Wyatt no longer counted. Chris was alone in the world, had rejected Wyatt. 

_What did you know?_ he wonders.

Because he’s lied to himself all along.

.

Chris stands on the bridge, watches the sun set across the water. His parents and his aunts banished him from the manor, refuse to listen to him anymore. They refuse to believe his story.

He remembers how it felt, Wyatt choking him. How it felt the last time Wyatt held him.

How it felt, Wyatt letting him go. 

The wind tears at his hair, rips the tears off his face.

He’s tried to save his brother, going it alone because his family didn’t want to believe. He’s tried to save his brother, but he knows he failed because he’s finally realized there is nothing to save him from.

“Okay,” he murmurs. He sighs. “Okay.” Glancing back in the direction of the manor, he chooses.

.

He never told Bianca about the loophole in their time travel. Wyatt sent her back and gave her the key to return.

He’s lied to himself all along.

.

Wyatt, of course, is waiting. “Welcome home,” he says, holding out a hand.

Chris doesn’t take it but Wyatt keeps holding it out. “Why am I alive?” he asks. 

Wyatt smiles. “I had a premonition the day you were born, and I never forgot it.”

“But Mom,” Chris says. “Mel.” He stares at Wyatt’s hand.

“Sacrifices have to be made, Chris,” he says gently. “I knew who would help and who would hinder.”

He’d been planning it for years. And it went perfectly. “You broke the world,” Chris tells his brother.

Wyatt laughs. “It was always broken. I just took it hand.”

Chris inhales sharply and holds it, lifting his gaze to his brother’s eyes. He exhales slowly, mind racing back and back and back, as far as he can, searching (again) for all the signs he missed.

There are none.

He reaches out.

.

_Why am I alive?_   
_I always knew._

.

“I saw you,” Wyatt tells him, “at my side. I called you by name. We stood together at the head of the world. Our parents, our cousins, our aunts—our sister. I loved them, Chris. I love them now. But I have a vision for the world I knew that they would fight me.”

“And I wouldn’t?” Chris demands.

“You didn’t,” Wyatt says, smiling. “You killed demons, but you never tried to attack my tower. You never gave your rebels any dangerous intel.” He’s leaning against the wall, still smiling.

Chris looks out the window. He can see where his refugee camp was. He doesn’t ask what happened to them.

“What do you expect me to do?” He rests his forehead on the glass.

“Anything you want.” Wyatt steps behind him and slowly wraps his arms around Chris’ middle. “Do you remember the last time I held you like this?” he whispers into Chris’ hair. “We were so young. But I knew, Chris. I always knew we’d be here.” He presses a kiss to the top of Chris’ head. “You had to make the choice. You are part of me, Chris. I just needed to wait.”

“I spent six years planning,” Chris says. “Six years planning to save you.”

Wyatt’s grip tightens. “You did the day you were born. I was missing something before you.” He drops another kiss, reaching to grab Chris’ hand. “I remember a few months when I was very young—I kept reaching for something, but it never reached back.” He sighs, breath warm on Chris’ neck. “When you went back, I knew it was almost time.”

Chris leans into him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Wyatt laughs softly. “You had to make the choice, Chris. It was always your choice.”

Even now, it doesn’t feel like a choice. It feels inevitable, like the tide, like gravity. 

“Come to bed,” Wyatt murmurs, stepping back and tugging Chris after him. “I’ve been dreaming of this for years.”

Mel. Mom. Bianca. The girls and Henry, the aunts and uncles, Dad, the kids at school, the neighbors. Everyone. 

_I can’t kill my brother,_ he told Bianca. 

He closes his eyes, exhales, opens his eyes, and follows his brother.


End file.
